


Water

by deutschtard



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi, Post Reichenbach, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-13
Updated: 2012-03-13
Packaged: 2017-11-01 21:37:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deutschtard/pseuds/deutschtard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompt from astudyinlestrade on tumblr: John/Mycroft. Water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Water

The first few days were the hardest. Lestrade had tried to keep an eye on him, but John forbade it. There was no yelling, just a simple text: "Please, leave me alone, Greg. -JW"

He was worried off his head, but he respected the man's wishes, secret texting sessions with Mrs. Hudson who checked up on him for Lestrade.

"I just don't know what to do. I want to help him," he said, frustrated. Mycroft's hand on his shoulder was reassuring.

"I know, Gregory. We must give him time," 

"But what if he does something  _stupid_? What if I could stop it and I'm not there because he told me to leave him alone? I j--"

A squeeze of the hand, "Don't worry yourself like this," he paused, "I'll look in on him as well, if that would put your mind at ease."

Greg looked up at him, "Immensely."

"Very well."

* * * *

The black car looked unassuming as it pulled up to Baker Street, but Anthea was too well dressed to be anything but out of place. She all but floated up the stairs. The door was locked, it didn't take her long to pick it and find John staring at the chair Sherlock had claimed as 'his'

"Mr. H-- Mycroft would like to see you," she figured the name "Holmes" may set him off if she wasn't careful.

"How nice for him."

She put her mobile in her pocket, came up in front of him and crouched, placing a hand on his knee, "John, come talk to him. I don't want to have to forcibly kidnap you."

John's gaze fell to hers flatly. He didn't speak, moved to his shoes and his coat, "Well, come on then."

* * * *

"John, please sit down," Mycroft said from behind his desk in the private room of the Diogenes' Club.

Like an echo of an age long past, "I don't want to sit down."

Mycroft took in a slow breath, exhaling it just as slowly through his nose before standing, moving to in front of the good doctor, "Very well, then," he took his usual glance up and down, his own deductive powers whirring to work:  _Last shower - 3 days ago; shirt - two days old, unwashed; last sleep - over 20 hours ago; last meal - brunch yesterday; severely dry skin - moderately dehydrated._ "You should have some water."

"I don't want any."

Mycroft looked down his nose at him, "I understand that, John, it was not a suggestion," he said. He walked over to a carafe of ice water and poured a cup before coming back to the other man, holding it out to him, "Drink."

"No."

"John, you have a medical degree, and one look at you says you're moderately dehydrated. When is the last time you drank anything?"

A set jaw and stern eyes were his only response.

"You know, perhaps better than I do, that you need to drink," he paused, the word stuck on his tongue leaving a bit of a bad taste in his mouth, " _please_."

Even in this state, that word from  _Mycroft Holmes_ was something he never thought he'd hear. John blinked, his mouth opened, then closed, and he took the water, obediently drinking it down.

"Would you like more?"

It took a moment for John to answer, "Yes."

Mycroft took the glass, refilled it, and returned.

"John, you have people that are worried about you," a pause, "let Detective Inspector Lestrade check in on you from time to time, it would be good for both of you in a time like this."

John stopped mid-drink and put the glass on the table. "I  _need_  to be left alone. The only reason I came was because your little assistant said she would force me if I didn't come willingly."

The thought made Mycroft smile in his head(for he tried not to smile outwardly in such serious situations). "I understand that, but you know well as I that you are not the only one hurting," he ignored the slight twinge of pain and regret in his chest, "people did care for my little brother for a variety of reasons, and as the saying goes, there is strength to be found in numbers. Having someone to talk to, other than your woefully unprepared therapist, would be a good thing."

John was silent for quite a while  _37 seconds,_ Mycroft thought. Then, his shoulders sagged and his head bowed, admitting defeat. It was another five seconds before he spoke.

"Fine. Tell Lestrade coffee on Tuesday, 3pm."

Mycroft nodded, walking over to place a firm hand on John's shoulder, a squeeze, "I shall. My car will take you wherever you wish. You know how to contact me if there is anything you should need."

"Yeah. Right." John headed towards the door, pausing, "goodbye, Mycroft."

"Good evening, Doctor Watson."


End file.
